


an unconventional coping mechanism

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rogue Squadron, references to past relationships, sex as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 17:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9452714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: After a while flying and fighting for the Rebellion, most of the pilots develop their own coping strategies. Wedge’s is just a little bit more… unconventional… than the others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not exist without the help of several people: [dolly-bassett](http://dolly-bassett.tumblr.com/), who instigated this entire affair with an off-hand comment about Wedge using sex to process, [harusamemosuke](http://harusamemosuke.tumblr.com/), who cheerleaded me along this entire fic with much enthusiasm, [spookykingdomstarlight](http://spookykingdomstarlight.tumblr.com/), for a wonderful pep talk that had nothing to do with this fic but still helped it on its way, and [roane72](http://tumblr.selkie.net/) (and several other followers/friends) for some very helpful advice about writing the last scene. I am indebted to all of you <3
> 
> As always, if you want to come and squee on a non-ao3 platform, you can find me on [tumblr.](http://drinkupthesunrise.tumblr.com/)

“Everything okay here?”

Luke looks to Han, who’s strolled over, grinning about something or other. The Rogues have been out on a mission for two days, only just landed. Nothing serious, but they’re all glad to be back on solid ground.

“Yeah, kid,” Han says with a shrug. “Not much happened. Her worship’s got some latest thing in her head about recruitment and mercenary pay, but honestly the most exciting thing that’s happened since you left is an argument between the mechanics about who got to service Antilles’ bird when he got back.”

Luke’s busy stripping off his gloves and gear, and honestly couldn’t care less about what Han thinks about Leia’s latest idea, but that last concept befuddles him. “Wedge?” Luke raises an eyebrow. “They were arguing about who services Wedge’s ship?”

“Yeah,” Han says. “Pretty baffling. Got quite heated too.”

“I don’t see why. Wedge keeps good care of his ship. It’s not a chore to be his assigned tech. See, if it were Hobbie, I could understand—” Luke looks across to the charred, blackened underside of a certain X-Wing belonging to a certain blond pilot. “His ship comes home with damage nine times out of ten, and usually requires twice the work of anyone else's.”

“Oh no. I'm fairly certain that they both wanted this job.”

Luke pauses. “That’s odd.” He shrugs. “I mean, I guess he’s fairly considerate to the techs. It’s probably a nice job.”

There’s a scoff from the mechanic who’s currently overseeing Luke’s ship. When Luke looks over, her head buried back in the wiring of the back of his X-Wing and he can’t ask her what she thinks it's about.

Han rolls his eyes. “Pah. He’s doing something to carry favour with them. Must be, to get them arguing like that.”

“Han, it’s not really my concern. Not unless it affects how he flies, or the state of his ship. His affairs are his own.” Not that Luke wouldn't like to know Wedge better than he does; they fly well together and the man is a valued Executive Officer, always ready to have Luke’s back, and happy to chip in with shenanigans, but… Luke can’t help but feel like Wedge is keeping something back.

“Whatever. You did ask me what had happened; I told you the only thing I had.”

“Sure.” Luke stashes his gear, then heads towards the communications’ centre to make his report. Han falls into step beside him. “Come on, you’ve got nothing better? How’s Chewie doing fixing those flux capacitors?”

.

When Luke has debriefed and been cleared, he heads for the Recreation Room that most of the Rogues favour. He’s hoping to find Wedge, to talk over some of the more finicky aspects of the mission, but he’s not there. Most of the others are; Luke heads for the table where Hobbie and Wes are sat, grumbling over a card game of something or other.

Wedge has issued a temporary ban on them playing for money; they’d all lost too much of it in various circles. The chits between them look to be spare nuts and bolts, the accumulated debris from some mechanic’s pockets.

“Yo Hobbie?” Luke slides into a seat beside the blond man. The detritus on the table has sparked a question in his mind. “You got any idea why the mechanics would be arguing over who gets to work on Wedge’s ship?”

Hobbie is the obvious choice for such a question: Luke doesn’t feel comfortable saying that Hobbie knows Wedge the best, but he has known him for the longest, and that counts for something.

Hobbie gives Luke a long stare, and then raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“Not a clue. Han mentioned it to me earlier; can’t see why it’s a problem, I was just curious.”

Wes makes a snort. “That’s the boss. Innocent as a babe. Surprised Solo hasn’t worked out what’s going on, though.” Wes places his cards down, and sweeps his chits into a neat pile, before placing a hand on the table, gesturing at Luke. “It's very simple. The mechanics like working on his ship because they know there’s a decent chance they’ll get invited back to his quarters.”

Between Wes’s wiggling eyebrows and his words, Luke catches the implication. Though it’s a little baffling. He’s struggling to put together an image of Wedge, the cool man who serves as his XO and is a stickler for rules, with this surprise revelation that he’s… what? A desirable charmer who’s slept with how many people? “So he’s got a reputation amongst the mechanics as a ladies’ man?”

Hobbie scoffs. “He’d take offence to that. He’s pretty equal opportunities about these things.”

So Wedge likes… men? Women? Xenos of indeterminate gender?

“Also,” Hobbie says, with a wave of his hand and a considered expression on his face. “That’s not really what’s going on. It’s not like that…” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Look. We all have our post battle coping strategies. Wes and I come and play Sabacc with a thousand obscure rule changes and ever more ludicrous bets. Tycho recites the Alderaanian poetry he memorised at school. You take a wrench to whatever loose piece of machinery you can find. Wedge uses sex. And he gets pretty batty and wired up if he doesn’t get it. I think there’s a schedule amongst the various techs to make sure there’s someone there for him.”

Luke’s expression turns serious, his brow furrowed. “Is he coercing these people into having sex with him?”

“No.” Hobbie is quick to respond, his voice solid. “No, nothing like that. Not Wedge’s style. Always consensual. He ain’t short admirers – especially given that he doesn’t date, I think that somehow has attracted even more people? There’s something about unattainable that turns people on, I swear. And besides…”

Hobbie trails off. There’s a slight flush on his face.

“What my esteemed colleague means to say is—” Wes leans over, hooking an arm over Hobbie’s shoulder and grinning wide. “Going to bed with Wedge? Pretty decent deal. Works out well for both parties. Wedge gets what he needs, and whoever’s with them gets the night of their life. Or so I’m told.” Wes claps his hand on Hobbie’s arm. Hobbie squirms slightly, looking uncomfortable.

“… You and Wedge?” Luke can’t keep the astonishment off his face.

Hobbie ducks away from Luke’s prying gaze. “Once. Didn’t mean a whole lot. It was just sex. Good sex, yes, Wes is right about that one, but – nothing more. We both got what we wanted. I’m not hopelessly pining after him, he’s not hopelessly pining after me, we’re friends, that’s it.” He crosses his arms, more defensive about this than Luke expected. “You don’t have to worry about any conflicts of interest or anything. It's in the past.”

“I wasn’t worried.” That had been the last thing on Luke’s mind, honestly. “Just a bit surprised, that’s all. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. Or at least, safer than it is with Wes.”

Wes gives a cheeky grin, and Hobbie puts his face in his hands. “Yeah, Boss, that’s not going to be difficult. But I appreciate it.”

.

Later, Luke is sitting in the squadron office filing datawork and raising new requisition orders to replace damaged parts, when Wedge finally shows up.

He pulls out his chair and drops into it on the side of the desk, brushing a couple of things aside so he can get a clear look at what Luke is doing. “What’s going on, boss?” he asks, in a nonchalant tone.

Luke looks across, examining Wedge in a new light after the information he’d received from Hobbie. Somewhere between when they landed their ships and now, Wedge probably got laid. All the signs point to it. His hair is slightly damp, and he smells clean and fresh. He’s at ease in his chair, not agitated like he sometimes is, and from what Hobbie had said it seems like his agitation is usually soothed by sex.

“Not much,” Luke replies, gaze catching on Wedge’s lips. They aren’t swollen. Maybe it’s been long enough since whatever Wedge was up to that there would be no trace of that.

Or maybe whatever he was doing didn’t involve much kissing.

Contrary to popular opinion on base, Luke isn’t some innocent blushing virgin. He grew up on Tatooine, and there was precious little to do, and he was a hot-shot who raced speeders through canyons and had a ridiculous crush on his best friend, of course things happened. And he’d had a good thing going with Sana for a while too, until she’d taken off for greener pastures – though she’d left making it quite clear that if he was ever in the neighbourhood, he’d be welcome to stop by, welcome in her bed.

“Just filing requisition orders. I spoke to one of the mechanics, they’ve patched the shields on Hobbie’s X-Wing as best they can, but they need new parts and well, they don’t have any on hand.” And whilst they don’t have that part, Hobbie will be putting his life in more danger than usual. “What about you? Anything interesting to report?”

Luke harbours no real illusions that Wedge is going to fess to his antics. He’s never said anything about them, there’s no reason for him to start now. It’s none of Luke’s business, really. The Rebellion’s fraternisation regs are lax to say the least, and Wedge screwing mechanics doesn’t present anyone with a real conflict of interest. There’s nothing for Luke to object too. Wedge is a fine officer, not hampered by this – in fact, it seems to help him.

(None of this explains why Luke is so bloody fixated on the idea, how he can’t quite shake the thought of Wedge and sex out of his mind.)

“Nah,” Wedge says, leaning back in his chair, hands above his head. Casually, effortlessly cool, in a way Luke has never managed.

No wonder the mechanics are arguing about who gets to have him. Who wouldn’t want him?

“Well, in that case, you can give me a hand,” Luke says, pushing a datapad across to Wedge. “Three new possible missions from command. Can you look at them and give me loss / gain scenarios, please?”

“No problem boss.” Wedge takes the datapad with a smile, his fingers brushing against Luke’s for just a moment. Luke shivers. Kriff. Nope. No. He’s not going there. Even if Wedge’s smile lights up the room, and his eyes change from brown-to-hazel-to-grey depending on the light.

Oh kriffing hells.

Luke really needs to get laid himself. He wonders if the mechanics have room in their schedule for him.

.

The next time the Rogues come home from a mission, Luke keeps a close eye on Wedge.

He’s got his own problems; a misfiring power coupling is causing fluctuations in his engines, and while he trusts the mechanics, he’d rather take a look at it himself. For a moment, though, his mechanic has taken over, performing a cursory examination before anyone else gets in there.

Which leaves Luke ample time to watch Wedge.

He’s making a show of the examination of his craft, still with most of his gear on – though he’s lost his helmet, and his hair is damp with sweat and plastered on his face. At one point, Wedge rakes a hand through it, pushing it back from his face, and he takes on a mantle of roguish charm. The mechanic – male, one of the regulars, reasonably tall and just a little bulky – is following Wedge’s every move, nodding at various things that Wedge points out.

There’s a frantic nature to the way Wedge is moving, rapidly intensifying, like he’s coiling tighter and tighter like a spring and at any moment he might just snap and Luke is starting to wonder if he should go over and intervene, because things look like they’re spiralling out of control, and he almost does, he drops the spanner from his hand and has stepped away from his X-Wing but then—

The mechanic lays a hand on Wedge’s shoulder, a broad hand, and spins Wedge around to face him. He whispers words in a tone too low for Luke to hear. Wedge slowly goes still. The mechanic leans over him, unclipping Wedge’s life-support gear and slowly pulling it off him.

Wedge acquiesces, lifting his arms so the mechanic can pull Wedge’s flak vest off him. Luke knows he should stop watching, but he can’t tear his eyes away. There’s something very tender and intimate about the gesture, though it’s fairly common for the pilots to be helped out their gear by whichever member of technical staff is closest. But this is different. And when Wedge has finally been divested of his gear, the mechanic just stands with him for a long moment, until Wedge leans up and whispers something in his ear. There’s a smile, and a grin from Wedge, and then the mechanic steps backwards and towards the hangar exit.

A minute later, Wedge follows.

“You needn’t worry,” a female voice chirps, suddenly right beside Luke. He turns his head and it’s his own mechanic. “We take good care of him. Wedge is safe with us.”

Luke doesn’t know what to say. Is he supposed to be appreciative of that fact? He is, in a round about way, glad that there are people who are looking out for Wedge, but… it feels like a weird thing to be thanking them for, for having sex with his friend?

“That’s good to know,” he settles for. That seems neutral enough.

His mechanic, Karfera, raises an eyebrow at him, curious at his response. “He could still probably do with someone to talk about things with, you know,” she says.

Now Luke is even more befuddled. What does she mean now? Is she trying to reassure him that there’s still space for him in Wedge’s life? “I’m not jealous.”

Karfera gives him a once over and then huffs. “Sure you ain’t,” she mutters. “Come on, back to work Skywalker, let's get this power coupling fixed so you can stop fretting about it.”

.

Luke fixes the power coupling, and does a couple of test runs on his engines. Everything looks fine. Tomorrow he’ll get clearance to take his ship on a short run, give it a proper test, but it’s good enough for now.

He checks in on his pilots; most of them are gathered in the rec room. Hobbie and Wes are playing their customary Sabacc game, but they’ve dragged Tycho and Zev into it as well. Dak’s sitting in the corner, probably writing a letter to his sister. All is well.

So Luke slinks off quickly, under the pretence of command stuff, but really: he wants to track down Wedge.

It’s easy enough to find Wedge’s quarters – the base they’re on is big enough that those of a certain rank have been offered private rooms, if they want them, and Luke and Wedge had both taken them up. Luke ducks to the side of the corridor as Wedge’s door opens. But it’s only the mechanic from earlier, making a quick and discreet exit.

Well, at least Luke now knows he won’t have to worry about that.

He gives Wedge a couple of minutes, standing against the corridor wall, breathing deep, attempting to clear his head. Then he goes and raps on Wedge’s door.

“What is it?”

“Just me, Wedge,” Luke calls back.

“There some sort of emergency or something, Luke?”

“No,” Luke reassures. “Just wanted to talk.”

The door opens, and Wedge appears, dressed only in a thin vest and his underwear. “Now ain’t exactly the best time. Can this wait?”

Wedge’s voice is gentle, and his eyes are soft, and in that moment Luke knows absolutely that if he actually had a problem, Wedge would be willing to sit and listen and talk him through it. But Luke… doesn’t. He wants to talk but he doesn’t know what to say. “Yeah, sure, no problem.” He shrugs, and sticks his hands in his pockets.

Wedge is lean. He’s strong enough, Luke knows that, but it doesn’t really show on him. His vest clings to the flat planes of his stomach. Luke can’t stop his eyes roaming over every inch of visible flesh, over Wedge’s pale skin and the fine hair on his arms and legs, to the sharp line of Wedge’s exposed collar-bone and a reddish, bruise like mark on the side of his neck.

Luke feels something stir in him, a heat that rises in his chest, desire pooling low in his groin. Wedge is standing close enough that Luke could just reach out and touch him, run his hands along all that skin, tug Wedge in close, drag his mouth along Wedge’s jaw, against the hint of stubble he’s close enough to see…

“Luke.” Wedge makes a coughing noise, and Luke drags his eyes back to Wedge’s face, embarrassed at how distracted he’d got. Wedge’s expression is full of concern, and that’s not what Luke wanted. He wants Wedge to know that he doesn’t need to be so concerned all the time. “If there’s something on your mind, just say.”

“It’s nothing Wedge.” Luke shakes his head, ducking his eyes. He doesn’t need to look at Wedge to know that there will be an unconvinced look on his face. “Look, I’ll see you later.”

He makes a sharp exit, leaving a befuddled Wedge behind him.

 _You idiot,_ Luke thinks. _Wedge is hardly the first person you_ _’ve ever had a crush on, get over it or do something about it._ Because there’s no mistaking how Luke felt, faced with a freshly fucked Wedge, wearing just enough to be considered decent. It was want, pure and simple, and it was an unnecessary distraction.

.

Luke ignores the ladder that’s leaning against his X-Wing, leaping out and thudding to the floor. Fuck. They lost two people out there and Luke is pissed about it. He yanks his helmet off his head and considers throwing it to the ground.

“Hey.” One of the techs steps in front of him, speaking in a soothing voice. They take the helmet from his hands. “You’re okay. You’re safe now, Commander Skywalker. See to your team.”

They’re gone again as quickly as they were there in the first place. Luke takes a deep breath. They’re right. He needs to focus on his squadron. They’ve all lost people before, but it doesn’t get easier to bear with time.

Specifically, Luke realises, he needs to go see Wedge. This was a mission he cleared, that he deemed to be okay, that he’d briefed them all on and said that the chance of casualties was low, and his wingman was one of the fatalities. Wedge bears every death of the squadron badly, the weight of survivor’s guilt and grief a heavy noose around his neck. He’ll be taking this worse than he usually does.

Luke pushes his way through the crowd in the hangar to Wedge’s ship. Wedge is out, stripping off his gear, tossing it this way and that. Everyone’s giving him a wide berth except the Deck Chief, who’s staring him down.

Wedge is angry. He’s pissed – probably at himself more than anyone else – but that doesn’t mean that other people won’t get caught in the crossfire of his temper. “Wedge,” Luke says, catching onto the edge of the sleeve of Wedge’s flightsuit. He looks up with wide-eyes, not above using Wedge’s protective instincts against him. “Hey. Let's go debrief, alright. Get it over with.”

Wedge slows, for just a moment, looking at Luke and collapsing under Luke’s gaze. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough and low. “Okay Luke. Let's go.” He seems incredibly shaken, which is completely understandable given the circumstances.

“Wait.” The Deck Chief sidles up, inserting herself between Luke and Wedge. She looks at Wedge, and takes his face into her hands. “Wedge, you sure you’re alright? I’m sure Commander Skywalker can delay your debrief for a little bit if not.”

“I’m fine, Celestra,” Wedge says. “You don’t need to molly-coddle me.”

“Pah, if that’s what you think we’re doing, then I have news for you boy.” She grins, then tugs Wedge into a fierce hug. He melts against her, burying his face into her hair, inhaling deep.

Suddenly, Luke realises that what Wedge is doing has so little to do with sex. It’s about intimacy, and touch, and the feel of another person, and sex is about the only way Wedge knows to get that intimacy on the intensity he requires.

Celestra pats Wedge on the shoulder. “You need anything, you know where to find me.” She gives him a wink, and then leaves.

Wedge gives Luke an abashed glance. Luke shrugs his shoulders lightly. It doesn’t bother him. “Let's go,” he says, placing an arm around Wedge’s shoulders. He smiles when Wedge leans into the touch.

.

“This isn’t the usual setting for a debriefing,” Wedge says, in Luke’s quarters, sat on Luke’s bed.

“Honestly, I’m not really fussed about debriefing Wedge,” Luke says, settling beside his friend. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He leans over to clasp one of Wedge’s hands, stopping Wedge’s nervous tick.

The expression on Wedge’s face is confused, like he’s not quite sure whether he should tear his hand back away or not. He leaves it in Luke’s. “I’m as fine as I can be, given the circumstances. You don’t need to look after me. Celestra and her crew do that well enough. Go and see to Command – I’m sure they’ll want to hear about what a screw-up this was.”

“I’d rather see to you,” Luke says, leaning in.

Wedge laughs. “Oh, Luke, if you knew what Celestra and her crew do to me, than you wouldn’t have said that.” Then he cocks his head, suddenly examining Luke in a new light. “Unless you do, and this is your clumsy attempt at making a pass at me?”

Luke chokes. He hadn’t intended his words to be interpreted that way, but he can easily see how they would be. “Umm—” His words get caught in his throat. “Look, I know about the post-mission sex thing, if that’s what you’re referring to.” He tries to say it casually, tries to make it sound like it’s nothing. “I’ve known for a while, Wedge.”

“Oh great, the boss knows.” Wedge puts his head in his hands, pulling away from Luke. “Fab. That’s not mortifying at all.” One of his legs is shaking, foot tapping steadily against the ground. “Look, Luke, I appreciate that you’re trying and that maybe it doesn’t matter to you, I mean, I’m hardly the only person having a shit-ton of casual sex in this here Rebellion, but, frankly, I’d really rather not talk about it with my CO if it’s all the same to you.”

“Aren’t we friends?”

“Luke, I don’t talk about this much with my friends either.” Wedge lifts his head, eyeing Luke. There’s a fierce blush colouring his cheeks. “And I’m still trying to work out whether this is you trying to be all friendly and open, or whether this is the most inept seduction attempt ever?” He sits up, examining Luke carefully. “I mean with anyone else I’d assume it was the latter, you brought me to your bed for goodness sake, but you are just good enough for it to be the former.”

This shouldn’t be this hard. All Luke has to say is that this is his clumsy attempt at making a pass at Wedge. He knows he wants Wedge, that he’s attracted to the other man, that the idea of having sex with Wedge intrigues him, makes heat pool in his stomach and want claw in his chest.

“I’m going to make this simple,” Wedge says. “No judgements. This is what it is. Luke, do you want to have sex with me?”

Wedge is sitting on Luke’s bed, his orange flightsuit still on and securely fastened. His dark hair is falling just into his eyes, one of his hands is clawing at the fabric bunched up on his leg, and Luke knows unequivocally that the answer to Wedge’s question is yes. He does want this.

He tries to say it. They’ve got this far. But he can’t make the word, one simple word, come out his mouth.

So instead, he leans forward, catching his hand on Wedge’s flightsuit, and pulls him into an all too clumsy kiss.

It’s not a good kiss. Their noses bump, their teeth clash, and the angle is all wrong. It’s been a while since Luke kissed a man, and he’s over-eager, nervous and desperate, but he’s attempting to get his intentions across.

Wedge holds steady and patient. He’s kissing back, Luke belatedly realises, tilting his head so they aren’t so awkwardly pressed together. One of his hands is resting against the back of Luke’s neck, playing with the ends of Luke’s hair. He’s slowing the pace, licking across the seam of Luke’s mouth and then sucking at Luke’s bottom lip, turning the kiss into something pleasant, something enjoyable.

When they break for air, Luke finds that he’s half in Wedge’s lap, half falling off the bed, and it’s only his strong hold on Wedge’s flightsuit that’s keeping him upright. He shifts his weight, and ends up straddling Wedge, one of Wedge’s hands settling on his lower back, pulling him flush against Wedge.

Wedge is hard, Luke realises. And so is he.

“Okay,” Wedge says, voice ragged. “I think I caught the drift from that, but for my sake, do you think you can say the words?”

Now it’s abundantly clear that they both want this, the words fall easily for Luke. “Yes,” he says, running his hands up Wedge’s chest to begin unfastening the flightsuit. “I want this, Wedge. I want this with you.”

That’s all it takes for Wedge to kiss him again, fast and fierce and open mouthed.

.

In his bed, being fucked by Wedge, Luke learns three things that evening:

The first is that Wedge is sinfully good with his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Wedge to press Luke back into the bed, strip him of his flightsuit and vest and underthings, and set to work covering and claiming every inch of skin he can find. With his hands, yes, but mostly with his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking, marking a path down Luke’s body. When he reaches Luke’s groin, he looks back up at Luke, raising his eyebrows, possibly impressed by the sheer size of Luke.

And then Wedge’s mouth is hot and warm around Luke’s dick, and Luke almost arches off the bed with pleasure.

The second is that Wedge is desperate to please. He doesn’t look for verbal reassurance – Luke quickly discovers that it’s not in Wedge’s nature to talk, he’d prefer to keep his mouth busy doing other things – but his eagerness is evident in other ways, in how his hands press close against Luke’s skin, in the intensity of the focus he shows. Luke feels like he’s being systematically taken apart piece by piece in his own bed, in a way he never has been before, and Wedge is giving him precious few opportunities to reciprocate. Wedge manages to bring Luke off with his mouth, easy as anything, leaving Luke a quivering mess in the bed. Once he's come back to himself, he reaches for Wedge, wanting to get his hands on him, return the favour, but Wedge bats Luke’s hands away. “Have you got anything?” Wedge asks, voice quiet and low and tickling against Luke’s pulse point. “I wanna fuck you, if you don’t mind, but we need lube and a condom.”

Luke has never scrambled for his footlocker faster. He knows Wedge will make it worth his while.

Luke might be out of practice with this, but Wedge is very much not. He makes it seem easy, effortless, placing kisses over whatever pieces of Luke’s skin he can reach, until Luke is hard again, begging Wedge to just fuck him already.

Wedge smiles and kisses Luke, a filthy thorough open-mouthed affair. And then, slowly, he sinks himself into Luke. As Wedge fucks him, at first slow whilst he waits for Luke to get used to it, then picking up the pace when it’s clear Luke is comfortable, Luke notices that Wedge – even in the heat of the moment – is intensely attentive to Luke’s needs, to his wants, to how his breath speeds up when he feels himself starting to get close again. Wedge reaches between their bodies to get a grip on Luke, desperate to push him over the precipice for a second time before he’s even come once.

(A related aside: Luke also discovers that Wedge has an extraordinary amount of stamina. Possibly from practice. He doesn’t ask.)

The third is not so much a new thing, but confirmation of something Luke suspected earlier. The sex isn’t the important thing. The intimacy it provides, the tangible connection with another human being, that’s what’s important. After they’re done, after Luke has had two of the most mind-blowing orgasms in his life and Wedge has climaxed and the hormone release from his orgasm has sent relief into his bones; after Wedge had retrieved a washcloth from Luke’s private refresher and carefully wiped him clean, with a touch so tender and gentle; they’d curled up together, still naked, in Luke’s bunk.

Luke nestles against Wedge, head lying on Wedge’s chest. Wedge has his arms curled around Luke. Neither of his hands are still. One is playing with Luke’s hair, twirling soft strands round his finger tips; the other is rubbing circles into Luke’s skin. He’s unwilling to let go, unwilling to break the connection.

Luke tangles his legs with Wedge’s. He’s quite happy to lay here entwined with Wedge, until something important enough comes along to drag their attention away from each other, but for now; this is enough.

“You’re bloody good at that, you know,” Luke says, his own hand splayed against Wedge’s chest.

Wedge chuckles. Luke feels his rib cage move beneath his hand. It’s nice. He can see the attraction of just being with someone, anyone, for the necessity of human warmth. “You aren’t half bad yourself, Skywalker.” His hand settles in Luke’s hair. “If you ever want a repeat performance, well, I’m onboard.”

“Now?” Luke raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe not.” That doesn’t stop Wedge leaning in for a kiss, a quick one, much chaster then the ones they’d shared earlier. “We do have to go debrief at some point, and sooner or later the squadron is going to come looking for us. But on another occasion? Sure. This has been fun.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, leaning up to kiss Wedge once more. “I’d like that.”


End file.
